Operational Logs: Republic Shield Pilot Yaihi'l Beskar
by Yaihi'l Beskar
Summary: A collection of contest fics using characters from the Rebel Squadrons Star Wars fan group. Updated whenever I participate in an RS writing contest.
1. Operation: Invisible Force

_A pirate raid goes right, for once._

* * *

_MC80a Windstorm, 7 days before__raid on pirate base_

"Brigadier General, the brass rejected the plan." The ensign assigned to convey the message was concerned, to say the least. Though the espionage division of the Rebel Squadrons fleet wasn't as skilled as it could be, there was little reason why they couldn't pull off a sting operation on pirates.

Huffing a sigh, Brigadier General Ginovef turned, bringing the ensign back to reality. "Then we improvise. Tell the squad leaders that I want to meet with them in an hour."

_3 days later_

"Kriffing Mandalorian-wannabe and his kriffing flying…" _Windstorm _Deck Chief Hendar Lorkan muttered, working to remove a warped hull plate from the nose of a damaged A-Wing fighter. The chief mechanic jumped as a voice rang out from behind him.

"Look, Lorkan, I know you're pissed at me, so we can skip that part. What the hell did I do this time?" 1st Lieutenant Yaihi'l Beskar (better known by the Basic translation of his name, Fulliron) knew he came off as a reckless pilot sometimes. Certain maneuvers (like ramming an enemy fighter) were liable to damage the ship, but they had their place. Considering that he would have taken even more damage had he attempted to wait for his cannons to recharge, he felt that his actions were warranted. _Doesn't change the fact that I crumpled the front of my fighter,_ he thought wryly.

"Well, it could be worse. It definitely could be worse," Lorkan said. "Rather than scrapping the entire airframe, your crumpling managed to stop at the first weld point, so I only have to patch the part you trashed. But, that being said, you _did _crumple part of the airframe, and I don't have enough time before the assault to fix it and have you flying."

"Dammit. I'm supposed to be A-Wing 2 on that!" Yaihi'l cursed at length in Huttese before taking a moment to calm down. "Alright. Do we have anything comparable in reserve?"

Lorkan grimaced. "We might have a Z-95 somewhere, but I have a feeling you wouldn't want something like that." Yaihi'l scoffed, and Hendar smiled ruefully. "Sorry sir, you're not flying this one."

Yaihi'l sighed. "At least Major Gaas will be able to take my spot." He took a breath. "All right, chief." Another sigh. "You can put off repairing my bird until after the assault. I'd rather have my bird grounded and the escorts being in tip-top shape than have them get blown out of the sky because you were fixing the aftermath of my idiocy."

Turning, the lieutenant walked back to his quarters. Grabbing his droid datapad ("No, D4, I actually need a datapad right now. Put your program into standby,"), he called his CO, Brigadier General Ta'Re "Ray" Djo.

"Hello? Oh, hey Yaihi'l!" Ray had never stood on ceremony with her squadron outside of formal events (A few privately wondered if that was just so that she could get away with brutalizing them when her Dathomiri mores clashed with Galactic standard). "What's up?"

"Hi Ray," Yaihi'l said, thankful that she was in a good mood. _Must have just brutalized someone idiotic enough to start a pointless argument with her._ "So, you know that patrol I went on? Where I was forced to ram that pirate?"

"…You can't fly, can you? Dammit, kid-"

"Ma'am, according to the dossiers, I'm only three years younger than you."

"They haven't updated the dossiers on the network in a while. And don't change the subject! What I was going to say was, I refuse to have you sitting on your ass while the raid is going on!"

"That's what I was calling you about. I need a transfer to General Zalyn'cya's command for the mission." General Daryus Zalyn'cya had been tapped to lead the actual boarding operation on the pirate station.

"Zalyn'cya's command? Yaihi'l, how has it been since you even stepped into the combat simulator?"

"A week!"

Ray fixed him with a look that was unreadable to the street urchin-turned-fighter pilot. "Lieutenant…"

Yaihi'l hung his head. "… Alright, I wasn't in my armor, but I was skirmishing with-"

Ray held up a hand to stop him. "Stop babbling. I wasn't going to berate you…much. I was, however, going to tell you to get your ass over to Zalyn'cya for-" Anything else she said was cut off as Yaihi'l shut off his datapad and dashed out the door.

_Day of the raid, 2 hours to launch_

**_You all know the objective of the mission. This base is the source of the pirates who've been harassing us for the past month. For those of you not involved in the planning, the mission is as follows: _**

**_X-wing Red and A-wing Green will escort the YT-2400 _Arrow_ to the pirate base. The _Arrow_ will be conveying strike groups Raptor and Viper to the base. When you arrive at the base, the _Arrow_ will dock with the base. Strike group Raptor will attempt to take control of the reactor room of the base, while group Viper will attempt to take the control room, pacifying all pirates along the way. X-wing Red, you must destroy or disable the defenses of the station so that Arrow can dock. A-wing Green, you are tasked with destroying all enemy fighters and defending the _Arrow_. This will be complicated by the fact that the _Arrow_ was defanged before our acquisition of the ship and has yet to be rearmed. To compensate, we have put additional armor and shielding units on the ship._**

**_Fighters will be under command of BGN Djo, who will be flying A-wing 1. GEN Zalyn'cya will be in command of the strike teams, with 1LT Beskar leading strike team Viper._**

**_-BGN Nicolai Ginovef_**

Yaihi'l snapped his datapad closed as he entered the marine ready room. All of the men had already been briefed and were murmuring softly to each other. As he stepped into the room, the sergeant who would be acting as his second in command shouted, "Commander on deck!", causing all of the marines to snap to attention. Yaihi'l nodded and said, "As you were," before turning to the sergeant. "Thank you, Sergeant…?" He trailed off. _Of all the people in the galaxy, him?_

"Ulgo, sir. Sergeant Dorian Ulgo. I've been a marine since before the Battle of Endor."

Yaihi'l smiled, even as he began to feel heat building in his ears. "It's good to meet you, Sergeant. I, er…"

Sgt. Ulgo, spotting Yaihi'l's discomfort, spoke. "If you're feeling awkward, don't. I don't have a grudge against new officers any more than I do against the rest of the galaxy. I've never needed rank to feel like I'm doing good."

Yaihi'l interrupted him. "No, no, it's not that. Is that a Telosian accent you have?"

Dorian was confused. "Yeah, sure. I grew up there. Actually only got off of the streets because of a Rebel recruiter. Why, what's it to you?"

By now, Yaihi'l's face was in his hands. "When you were about 17, do you remember a little kid, about 5 years old? Didn't really have a name?"

Ulgo was now very suspicious of his new CO. "I've told no one about my past. How the-"

"_Parshaara, _Dorian," Yaihi'l said, calming the sergeant with an old street password. "Think back to what the little kid looked like, if you can remember a little kid from 16 years ago."

Dorian tried to remember, squinting at his CO. _Come to think of it… _"No kriffing way. You're that little chuba-face we took in. How'd you pick up a Mandalorian name?"

Yaihi'l laughed. "That was a real trick. Maybe after the mission I'll tell you. For now, let's just say it involved a lot of luck and a piece of iron rebar. Now help me with my armor."

_Day of the raid, hypering to pirate station._

Yaihi'l's hand clenched on the stock of his rifle. "Pilot, how close are we to coming out of hyper?"

"I was just about to bring us out. Everyone, brace for deceleration."

Yaihi'l grabbed a support handle as the freighter-turned-troop transport came out of hyperspace. He was standing just as the freighter jinked left. Hard. Picking himself up off the floor (and the hilt of his vibroblade) with everyone else, Yaihi'l yelled up to the cockpit. "What in the void was that?"

"Sorry, little busy dodging TIE/INs. A-wings are engaging, but we gotta burn space!"

Yaihi'l cursed. "Sith's blood! All right, Viper, seal hardsuits and be ready for zee-gee maneuvering, just in case! General, has anything substantive changed?"

The bothan shook his head. "As far as I can tell, BGN Djo has it under control out there. Wait, are you not patched in to the command circuit?"

Yaihi'l blinked. "There's a command circuit?"

Zalyn'cya nodded. "I'll patch you in." He winced and manipulated a control on his helmet comm. "Yes, Djo, I'm patching him in now. No, I can't do anything. No guns, remember?"

Yaihi'l accepted the cypher from the general and tuned his third comm channel to the frequency.

"…and no, I don't need to calm down! I was expecting to be fighting aging Z-95s, not kriffing TIE Interceptors and TIE X1s!" Ray's voice rang through the comm.

Yaihi'l boggled. "What the kriff are the Imps doing here?"

"No kriffing clue, chuba face. Now let me – YES! First kill, Jaran! Take THAT! Kid, I know I was hard on you for not flying, but it's probably a good thing you're not. You've never even simulated fighting these things. You just worry about taking the station. We'll cover you out here."

"Copy, Green Leader. Raptor/Viper leader out." The two men on the channel said.

* * *

Though it got a little hairy at times, the transport managed to make it to the station in one piece. Yaihi'l was able to interface with the station's computers and slice open the inner airlock door. "Sir, Viper team moving to objective," he spoke into his comm. "Acknowledged, Viper team. Proceed along route Aurek-1. Pacify all resistance along the path,"came the reply. Yaihi'l acknowledged the orders and motioned for his team to follow him along a route that would take them through the heart of the station along the way to the control room. Coming to a locked door, Yaihi'l again took out his slicing tools and set to work. The rest of Viper team moved to cover the door as he finished slicing and the door groaned open. From within, the team heard voices yelling at each other. "Oi! Hutt-spawn! Shut the dammed door!" "It wasn't me! Stupa, what are you doing over there?" "Fixing the power relay you shot out last week, schutta! Now –"

The pirate's tirade was cut off by the frag grenade Yaihi'l tossed into the room. Blooming out with the force of an old slug thrower cannon, the grenade forced the bodies of the pirates into any and all open space. Needless to say, the room was a mess of body parts and dying pirates. Yaihi'l turned to his team. "This is happening in every room we pass, right?" he said, with a tone indicating that, yes, frag grenades were going to be used. The team moved through the station, throwing grenades into every room they passed into and occasionally falling over because of the rumbling of the station. "Green leader, what's hitting the station?"

"Sith's blood! I didn't tell you?!" Ray yelled into her comm. "Strike teams, we have a Decimator! Damn thing's been firing for the past five minutes."

"Copy, Green leader. Thanks for the information," Yaihi'l said before turning to his team. "Map says we're a room away from the control center. There are a lot of fragile consoles in there, so no grenades on this one. Who has a sword or a knife here?" 3 out of the seven other men raised their hands, Dorian included. "All right. You three, you'll breach with me. Those of you without melee weapons, stay back and suppress whoever's in there. If they engage you at melee range, use a fusion torch to give yourself enough room to pull your sidearm on them." With his planning done, Yaihi'l moved into position to slice into the final door, with his three other melee fighter moving into position on either side of the door. Unsurprisingly, the firewalls on this door were tougher than the doors to the living area, and Yaihi'l was sure that the pirates had been alerted to the presence of the squad. Finally, the indicator on the door toggled and the door slid open. Yaihi'l rolled around the corner of the doorframe, vibroblade at the ready, just in time to catch an overcharged blaster bolt right in the chest. He staggered a bit, taking a few seconds to recover from the concussive force. _Damn am I glad that I have Mandalorian iron between my body and the galaxy, _he thought to himself as a barrage of shots flew toward him. Tucking into a roll, Yaihi'l was able to dodge most of the bolts in that barrage, though a few splashed harmlessly against his armor. Just as he was coming up for a slash on one of the pirates, the station rocked, causing his blade to slice through the man's arm rather than his neck as he had intended. Taking a few seconds to finish off the now weeping man, Yaihi'l turned to see the other melee fighters finishing off their own targets. When the last of the pirates in the control center had been dispatched, Yaihi'l spoke into the comm. "Viper leader to Raptor leader, control center is ours. What's the status on the reactor core?"

"Still contested. How'd you get through to the control room so quickly?" the general replied.

"Swords, slicing, and a lot of grenades. Peragian fuel cores in frag grenades really work wonders."

There was a pause. "And you couldn't have told me about these sooner, Lieutenant?"

"Sorry, sir. The grenades came from my personal stock. I have to do the modifications by hand, and I used every single one I have on this mission."

"Oh well. I might ask you to make a few and pass them on after the mission."

All of a sudden, maniacal laughter filled the comm. "Green leader, what's happened?"

"The Decimator just over corrected and hit a proximity mine! That was just BEAUTIFUL!"

Smiling, Yaihi'l turned to his men. "Viper team, let's head home."

_Night after the raid, MC80a _Windstorm, _Fighter pilot's quarters_

Yaihi'l groaned and popped his back. After a long debriefing and an only slightly shorter shower, he finally had some time to tinker with his armor. Sure, the armor had protected him from everything on the station, but the mechanized exoskeleton was in serious need of upgrading. _Might even need to just gut the whole thing and mount the plates on a new skeleton, _he mentally sighed. He was about to look up exactly how much that would cost when he spied a message indicator.

_In recognition of his contribution to the recent neutralization of the pirate base, above and beyond his normal duties, I hereby promote 1__st__ Lieutenant Yaihi'l Beskar to the rank of Captain._

_Brigadier General Ray Djo_

_Notes from the CO: Congrats, kid. Drinks on you tonight!_

Yaihi'l smiled. _As long as I don't have to cover Jaran's excess, we're all good, _he thought as he walked to the shuttle that would take him to wherever his wing mates were drinking tonight, his armor work lying forgotten on his bunk.

* * *

**A/N: This is based on the January Session of the Rebel Squadrons Star Wars Fan Group. The prompt was to raid a pirate base with Imperial involvement. My interpretation is significantly different from other interpretations, which can be found at ****http [colon] [slash] [slash] [slash]forums[slash] [question mark]f[equals]149 (Goddamn FFN hyperlink gymnastics)**


	2. The Struggle for Acceptance

The Struggle for Acceptance

Children of the street often are given the short end of the stick. We are labelled as crooks, thieves, and vagrants, even after we've pulled ourselves out of the morass of the street that raised us. Even I continue to be typecast, despite my acceptance into something larger. But in my case, the typecasting is different; I am labelled as Mandalorian despite that title not applying to me, simply because the first socially acceptable name I ever was given was given by a Mandalorian.

**My Origins**

I was born to... well, I honestly have no clue. I was abandoned to the streets of Telos IV, expected only to die of exposure. I've done a little digging since, so I think I _might _be a bastard of one of the many squabbling politicians there, but even if I knew exactly which one it was, I would never take their name for my own. Anyway, I was "lucky" enough to be taken in by a street band of other abandoned children (Sergeant Dorian Ulgo was actually one of these kids). I got a name from them, but I have a feeling the name "Spooge" would not have looked good on an RS sign-up form. I stayed with those guys for 18 years, and I honestly can't say that I regret my time with them at all.

**Mandalorian Encounter**

So I've spoken about this before, but I think it deserves a place here. When I was about 15, my street band decided to throw me a party. We pulled out all the stops we could - we had spice, we had Corellian whiskey, we even had a bottle or two of Tarisian ale, which was quite terrible, come to think of it. During the party, this huge mountain of a man in ill-maintained armor staggers into the pavilion we had scraped up enough money to rent for the afternoon. I was pretty drunk by this time, so I staggered up and yelled at the man to try and make him leave. Far from helping, it drew the attention of the man (who I now know to have been a disgraced Mandalorian), who grabbed me and dragged me off. I sobered up quite a bit when my air supply was cut off. However, I was unable to do anything until the brute threw me down in a messy alley. By luck, I fell near a rusty piece of rebar. As the man came at me, I lifted the bar and smashed it into his temple. By chance, his helmet was dislodged by the hit, which opened him up to subsequent hits. At this point, I went into what I think of as a combat blackout - I was acting and reacting, but my conscious mind was inactive. By the time I came to, the man's blood was pooling smoothly from his wounds and a troupe of men and women dressed in similar, though better maintained armor, had appeared at the end of the alley. I gripped the piece of rebar tightly, fearing reprisal for the savage beating I had inflicted on my captor, but far from attacking me, the armored people began applauding me for doing their work for them. The only thing about me that displeased me was that I didn't have a name "worthy" of a warrior like myself. Since they were Mandalorians in the tradition of Mandalore the Preserver, they initially wanted to name me Yaihi'l Beskar Ordo, or Fulliron of Clan Ordo. But, I didn't really want to become a Mandalorian, mostly because of the stigma leftover from the breakaway from Mandalore the True Mandalorians, as they call themselves, carry. Understanding, the Mandalorians asked that I keep the personal name I had been given while refraining from using their clan name. They went their way, and I went mine. 6 years later, I signed on with the RS, which started the only ongoing time where people have honestly believed me to be a Mandalorian, despite my vehement denial of that idea.

**Mandalorian Naming Conventions and Culture**

Now that I've told my story, I want to touch on the culture of the people many of you lump me in with. Mandalorians have two part names, just as most of the galaxy - their personal self-identifier, and their clan name. A Mandalorian's personal name often has little symbolic meaning the way that my own full name does, though this perception may be simple ignorance on my part. The last name of a Mandalorian is always the name of the clan which the Mandalorian hails from. I know of only two clans - Ordo, where one of the most famous and influential Mandalores came from, said Mandalore being one of the companions of Revan; and Fett, the clan that gave rise to one of the most ruthless bounty hunters this side of Coruscant. Now, try as I might, I can find no reference to _Beskar _outside of references made to _beskar'gam, _the armor of a Mandalorian crusader and crafted from Mandalorian iron (_beskar_).

There are a few other cultural marks of the Mandalorians. The first is the armor, which, admittedly, I wear. The second is the language, Mando'a. I know a few words of this, only enough to be able to understand my armor readouts, since power armor firmware in Basic is not as efficient as the original Mandalorian version. But the last part of Mandalorian culture is the part that most marks me as non-Mandalorian; all Mandalorians who are not born Mandalorian become so through a simple ceremony of adoption. I don't know the words used in Mando'a, but the Basic translation is: "I know your name as my child." As much as they likely wanted to, none of the Mandalorians I met at 15 said these words to me.

**Conclusion**

Now, most people will likely mistake me for a Mandalorian if they see me in full armor and don't bother to talk to me. Yet, few general citizens know Mando'a when they hear it. In my opinion, it is the knowledge of this language that is surprisingly prevalent in the RS that has led to my typecasting by so many of the people I associate with on a daily basis. So please, if you see me in the corridor, don't disrespect one of the oldest warrior groups in the galaxy by marking me as one of them. Remember that I am just a kid who had the luck to be in the right place at the right time, and that I just want the right to identify with whoever I wish, rather than being identified as part of a group I have no real ties to.


	3. Becoming Mandalorian

**_One year ago_**

_"The Beskar were a small family of clan Kelborn that rose to prominence during the wars between the ancient Sith Empire and the Republic. Most of the knowledge about the family has been lost, but it is known that, unlike most of the clans, the Beskar played both sides of the conflict. The family survived for the next era, but had faded into obscurity by the time of the Mandalorian Civil War. Remaining records are all but non-existent." _

The Mandalorian shuts down his datapad. "That's the only record we have of your name. You're sure an Ordo gave it to you?"

"As sure as I can be of ten year old memories." In the only chair in the room, Yaihi'l sweats under his armor.

"Well, you'll hardly be able to claim anything belonging to them."

"Wasn't here for that. I just…needed to know."

There's a pause "Haar'chak. This isn't how this is supposed to work. You come in, some aruetii wearing stolen armor, before dropping this on us." Another, longer pause. "Come with me. We're going to see what you can do, and then we'll decide what to do with you."

**_A week later_**

Swords clash, sparks flashing out on the ground. The hum of vibroswords fills the air. Off to the side, three Mandalorian trainees watch, bodies bearing bruises and scores from previous bouts. The trainer's dark armor bears several new scars from Yaihi'l's blade, and the servos in Yaihi'l's armor are whining with his exertion. With a kick and a spin, the trainer staggers out of the ring, his challenger remaining in the ring. The trainer pauses for a moment, then turns to the observers and nods. Yaihi'l returns his borrowed sword and leaves the training area.

**_Five months later_**

"Ba'jur bal beskar'gam, Ara'nov, aliit, Mando'a bal Mand'alor—An vencuyan mhi." The words flow easily from Yaihi'l's mouth, drawing an approving nod from the gathered Mandalorians.

Across from him, the Protector's eyes crinkle, though his mouth remains in a hard line. "You came to us aruetii, wearing our armor, even speaking our language, but not understanding who we are. Today, I believe you do. Step forward." Yaihi'l does so. "Yaihi'l Beskar Bralor, Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad. Today, you are one of the Mando'ade. Follow the Resol'nare, maintain your honor, and you will always be welcome among us." The Protector offers a hand, which Yaihi'l takes for a moment, before dropping it and walking out of the room.

**_Present Day_**

Standing in the shipyard's observation deck, Yaihi'l looks out over the new _Windstorm_. In the back of his mind, images of that fateful day flicker, the smell of shipboard fires almost invading his perception. He shakes his head. No, his home is not burning and breaking up, but whole, shining, and ready for blood. He keys his comm. "McGrath. Have the squadron jump to the rendezvous point. I'll meet you there." He turns, takes his paperwork datapad, and returns to his A-Wing, launching in order to dock with the _Windstorm_.


	4. Titan Assault

**Some backstory before this: Republic Shield, the New Republic group that Yaihi'l is a part of, is fighting a battle against an Imperial Remnant known as Titan. It is not going well. However, this is a shakedown for the capital ship that recently launched, so the balance here has shifted in favor of the RS. Supposedly.**

Rain lashed the rudimentary fortification almost as hard as the blaster fire streaming towards the position. One New Republic trooper poked his head out to take aim, only to duck back with a smoking helmet. Relatively safe within his heavy Mandalorian armor, Yaihi'l grimaced and moved out to cover his squad for a few seconds. Blaster bolts splashed against his chest piece as he took aim at the stormtroopers assaulting his men. As his tibanna cartridge ran dry, his right hand dropped from his rifle's grip to his belt and his starship fuel-laced frag grenades. As three balls of explosive Peragian death flew toward the enemy position, Yaihi'l ducked back behind the fortification to catch his breath. "Force-dammit, McGrath, where are you!" he muttered to himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Colt on the ground with his head between his knees, his shoulder armor glowing with the heat of a blaster's graze. "Sergeant! How are we on tibanna?"

"We've got ten more cartridges, but we've got another problem. That last barrage destroyed our bacta patches. We only have one more patch, and we're not all getting out of this unwounded."

"Kriff," Yaihi'l bit off. He took stock of his strike team. Twenty men, not including him and Lieutenant Colt, and all of them in varying states of combat readiness. Five men were sporting wounds on their sides, and three more had wounded arms. Suddenly, a storm of green blaster cannon bolts struck the troopers encroaching on the strike team's meager cover. Yaihi'l radio crackled as Diamond's CO opened channels to everyone deployed groundside.

–_ We got slammed right out the gate. I know it, Beskar knows it, and Titan knows it. But no plan survives contact with the enemy, right? Beskar's boys are out there getting hammered, and we need to get to them before we can even ATTEMPT the objective. Get your asses in gear and carve a path for medevac, we are NOT retreating now! _–

Yaihi'l smiled under his helmet. In the bottom left corner of his vision, his motion tracker showing only five more unidentified contacts up and about. "Alright, men. You heard the man. We're the Oh Frak handle of this operation. We've taken a beating, sure. In fact, this is one of the biggest cock-ups I've lead in a long time, and for that, I apologize. But I know that each and every one of you has a burning passion for protecting the Republic, and a determination to see these Titan assholes dead and buried. You eight," he pointed to the wounded. "You, along with anyone who wants to pull out, will dig in here and wait for medevac. Anyone else, we are spearheading the next assault. Load up on whatever tibanna you can scavenge - we're going straight for that GtS cannon so the Windstorm can come in and clean up." He looked out over his remaining men. "We've had our asses handed to us today. But we. are. the SHIELD! WE protect the Republic from the Remnant, WE defend this sector of space, and WE WILL WIN TODAY!" His men, despondent before, regained their determination and cheered aloud at Yaihi'l's simple words. His speech finished, Yaihi'l exchanged his tibanna canister and dealt with the five remaining stormtroopers near the fortifications. He vaulted the low cover and set off for the GtS facility. On his motion tracker, he noticed the thirteen yellow dots of his men moving behind him and smiled to himself.

The trek to the GtS facility wasn't long, but reinforcements from the Windstorm were able to catch up fairly quickly. Clearing the facility had eaten up most of Yaihi'l remaining Peragian grenades, but had progressed fairly easily. He had lost another four men to injury, but none of them were likely to die any time soon. Now, he and five of his strike team was outside of the cannon's control room. "Okay, here's how it's going down. I'll go in first to draw their fire while you five find cover and start planting the EMP charges. Ulgo, once I give the signal, open up with the ion blaster. Shoot anything and everything that isn't us. Once the controllers are dead, finish planting the charges, then we all bug out and go home. We'll leave the rest for the marines to take care of." He moved to the door and began to get it open. The next five minutes were a blur. Yaihi'l opened the door and tanked the first blasts that streaked toward him before diving in and slashing at the cannon control team. The charges were set, electronics were disabled, and the team bugged out, though all of their armor sported a few new blaster scores.


End file.
